


Goner

by ElsaFH (Elsa0806)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Shouyou sings in Portuguese so there's that, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsa0806/pseuds/ElsaFH
Summary: Out of all the things he’d expected from life, fallingthis hardfor Hinata Shouyou was definitely not the first thing on his list.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 23
Kudos: 455





	Goner

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Elsa here with my first, yeah, you read that right, _first_ AtsuHina fanfic. I'm honestly not caught up with the manga, but I've seen enough spoilers and panels to absolutely love these two. So here I am, breaking my "no writing fanfics until I'm waiting for the next update" rule for the second time (the first one was JoJo's, damn). 
> 
> I think it's good to let you all know that English isn't my first language, so, constructive criticism and corrections are very welcomed! This is unbeta'd, because in this house we die like men (being stupid), so it's possible you find some mistakes. I ran Grammarly on this, but who knows. Maybe it missed something.
> 
> The song Shouyou sings in this is [Meu Abrigo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUpGTRR4Tt4), by Melim. Honestly, at this very moment, I'm so thankful for my two terms of Portuguese— you guys can't even imagine. And Brazilian Portuguese, that is! It's such a pretty song... it feels like sunshine. So yeah. Just lemme have Shouyou singing in Portuguese, thank you very much. 
> 
> With no further ado, enjoy! 

Out of all the things he’d expected from life, falling in love _this hard_ was definitely not the first thing on his list.

Now, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t been in love before. Granted, there were a few girls that had him drooling all over his shirt and one or two boys that had him questioning his sexual orientation big time. He’d had girlfriends during his adolescence and maybe a couple of escapades with a guy he’d met during the beginning of his second year of high school, but they never meant that much to him. Sure, he’d suffered a bit after every breakup, because he didn’t know anyone that hadn’t mourned a relationship, but he was good to go in no time.

That until… well. His second year in Inarizaki. More specifically, until their match with Karasuno.

He could surely say Hinata Shouyou was the first man to make him flat out know his sexuality wasn’t straight. It wasn’t as if he was homophobic or something, it was more of a «you never know how you’ll react until it happens to you» kind of situation. Not just hooking up with a guy, because it was normal for teenagers to experiment, but it never really dawned on him that it wasn’t just sexual attraction; it was _romantic_ as well, and the only way to know it was to live it. And truth be told, when the time came, he’d panicked. How could he not panic? The match had been exhilarating and it filled his veins with a long missed adrenaline that he only got to experience partially when he met Kageyama, and not because of Kageyama himself. When the guy looked at Hoshiumi and didn’t even blink when he saw him jumping, Atsumu _knew_ something was up. And he’d lost it. What kind of spiker did Kageyama toss to? What sort of _monster_ could turn Hoshiumi’s jumps into something as _potential_?

He’d always dreamt of giving wings to a spiker. ‘Samu had been, up until now, the only one who could use the wings he’d given him without dying in the process. Like, _actually using them_ without limits, with no restrictions and oh boy, if that wasn’t the best feeling in the world, he didn’t know what could be.

But then he’d met Bokuto and he’d tossed to him and holy crap. That was one fucking good spiker. He’d been his team’s ace and sure, he was great, but after some time tossing to him, the feeling had faded. It always did, the fading thing. Didn’t matter how skillful a spiker was, didn’t matter how much raw power they showed on the court, the thrilling, the exhilaration faded eventually.

He’d always thought about how would it feel to toss to Hinata. During their match in the Nationals, he’d seen him fly. High up over the net like he was an actual crow, majestic and ready to gouge his eyes out. His and every single eye on his side of the court. It was then that he understood why Kageyama didn’t look surprised when Hoshiumi jumped, why he’d turned into a Goodie-Two-Shoes. Even the best setter in the world would turn into a Goodie-Two-Shoes if they had to toss to Hinata. The guy was an absolute beast, impossible to ignore even if you tried to. His presence on the court, the raw electricity that crackled through the air whenever he so much as blinked in the direction of one of the blockers, trying to decide where to hit the ball so it would go to the other side of the net—

 _That_ , he’d thought. _That’s exactly what I want_.

Something inside him told him Kageyama wasn’t giving Hinata the right wings. He could fly, and he looked beautiful and powerful while doing so, but it didn’t feel… _right_. Was he really giving Hinata everything he asked for? Was he really pushing Hinata’s limit until he could stretch his wings and soar? Did he really value the electricity Hinata provided, as if he’d been the power source of his team’s motions?

Nah. Atsumu didn’t think so.

And so, because of how curious he felt about the tiny number 10, he started to think more and more about him. The student life finally devoured him whole and left him little to no time to daydream about tossing to the guy, so he didn’t realize his fantasies were heading somewhere else until it was too late.

Too late as in «did I just dream about kissing the guy?».

What came after that was, in ‘Samu’s words, an absolute train wreck. Somehow (he couldn’t really tell how), he’d gotten Hinata’s number. Somehow, they were periodically texting. Somehow, he was sending Hinata the stupidest thing he could think about. Somehow, Hinata was greeting him good morning. _Somehow_ he’d managed to build some sort of relationship with the guy and to hell with it, _somehow he’d fallen even more for him_.

When Hinata left Japan and went to Brazil to play beach volleyball, he kind of felt left behind. He understood he wanted to improve. He really, really did. But Hinata didn’t answer as fast anymore, and somedays he’d go hours without even letting him know he was alive. Hinata was in a foreign country, he barely knew the language and he was so, so _small_ … how could Atsumu not be worried?

“Jeez, man,” his twin had wheezed once when he’d finally given up and told him about his fears and worries. “Look, dude’s old enough to take care of himself.”

“Yeah, but I’m worried outta my damn mind, ‘Samu,” he’d retorted, pouting. He knew beforehand his brother wouldn’t join his pity party, that he’d tell him the truth rather than what he wanted to hear. But it still irked him. How heartless.

“Think ‘bout this,” Osamu had said, pressing his index’s fingertip between Atsumu’s eyebrows. “Once he returns, he’ll be stronger. He’ll be truly worthy of the wings ya so desperately want to give him. Dontcha want to see him fly? Let him grow stronger feathers.”

At the time, that had felt like a lifeline. Osamu had given him a pretty good reason to be patient and wait for Hinata to come back. Over time, though, he’d realized the only thing Osamu had wanted was for him to shut the hell up. He also realized how stupid he was being, and cringed at the mere thought. But give a guy a break, for god’s sake.

He understood, though. He’d gone on and on about how much he missed his routine with the small crow and how much he missed the stupid messages they used to exchange. Yeah, he’d been kind of an immature child that sees their favorite toy taken away. He complained, he whined, drove Osamu crazy with his never-ending speeches about him— because he needed to get it out of his system, and because he’d known Osamu was the only person he could trust with it.

But he’d been patient nonetheless.

Oh, and the rewarding he got for his patience. That was priceless. _That_ was the best thing he could’ve asked for.

Now that he and Hinata played for the same team, he felt like his almost-too-much-patience had gotten a reward too big. He wasn’t about to give it back, though, because the first time he tossed to Hinata, he finally, _finally_ felt the thrill again. The adrenaline, pumping through his veins, tingling in the tip of his fingers. It wasn’t even an official match, it had been just a practice match and _yet_ , when Hinata landed on his feet and sparkled in joy and self-satisfaction upon seeing the ball hitting the exact point he’d intended to, Atsumu knew. He knew he was an absolute goner.

“Did you see that?” Hinata bounced on his feet, smiling from ear to ear. His happiness wasn’t the one he remembered, though; it was softer, contained. More mature. “That was _amazing_. Great toss, Atsumu-san!”

Oh, so he still was using the honorific.

“Shouyou” Atsumu sighed, pretending to be very, _very_ mad. “Drop the honorific. Or I’ll get mad.”

Hinata pouted, losing his mature appearance so fast it felt like it didn’t even exist in the first place. He wasn’t twenty-two anymore: he was fifteen again, on the other side of the net, small and fragile and all kinds of soft. Big bright eyes, shining like the sun, deep like melted caramel; he could’ve burn Atsumu to the ground with them if he’d intended to. The passion behind those irises, the pure desire to keep playing, to move forward, always ahead of everyone else, held the power of a sleeping volcano. An apparently fragile exterior, holding in a relentless force of nature.

Oh, the duality.

“I can’t,” he said, pouting a little bit more. The sleeping volcano in front of Atsumu seemed a little ashamed of his own words, and curiosity spiked inside of his chest. “I’ve missed speaking my own language.”

 _Oh_.

“Hold on” the setter blurted out, a few moments later. A few beats went by, and Hinata’s eyes were on him, softer now, nowhere near the power Atsumu knew they could hold. And then, “ya missed _speaking Japanese_?”

“Of course I did!” he answered, a big bright smile joining his ears like dots on a premade drawing, waiting for a kid to connect them and reveal what laid between them. “Portuguese is _hard_. Half the sounds it has don’t even exist in our language. It’s cool to be able to speak without translating everything in my head.”

Atsumu realized it then. Not that he didn’t know it before— but now, hearing him saying that, so easy, so careless… Hinata Shouyou was a relentless, amazing, wonderful force of nature. He pushed his limits beyond his own understanding; Atsumu truly believed Shouyou ignored he was a human who actually had them to begin with. He’d travel to Brazil without a single ounce of knowledge about the language, had learned it over the course of his life there. Something so many people had trouble doing, he’d done it for the sake of getting what he wanted.

How could he _not_ fall this hard for the guy?

“Atsumu-san?” Hinata asked, a worried line appearing in between his eyebrows. Frowning, with his lips pressed against each other in a line filled with something the setter couldn’t quite put his finger on, he tilted his head so he could watch Atsumu’s expression from a closer spot. “You ok there?”

“Ah” he sighed, blinking once, twice, before realizing how close the other one was. “Yeah, ‘m fine.”

“Snap out of it, Atsumu-san” Shouyou whined, looking fifteen all over again. Was he always gonna do this? Shifting between his adult self and his teenage self. Past and present. The person he was in Karasuno, the person he was in that exact moment. The sleeping volcano, waiting to burn everything on his way, versus the soft, carefree _literal ray of sunshine_ in front of him. “Wanna toss another one for me?”

Atsumu smiled, lopsided, hunger shining in his eyes.

“Ya bet.”

When Hinata smashed the ball on the other side of the court, so close to the back line it felt as if it’d been out, and landed on his feet, Atsumu smiled. Soft, secretive, almost to himself.

Yeah, he was a goner.

* * *

Hinata felt like the missing piece of a puzzle to the team. The Black Jackals were good, of course they were, they had an amazing set of players, and they had Atsumu— but Shouyou seemed to fill an emptiness they didn’t even know existed. He was good at _everything_ and it was almost unbelievable that this kid struggled with receives so much. It felt like a joke when he told them that during his first year in Karasuno, he couldn’t even serve right. «Yeah, I could do it but, is it really well done if you can’t give direction to it? Nah» he’d say, laughing. His cheeks were flushed due to the alcohol and his hair was tussled as if he’d just step out of his bed.

Atsumu brushed the hair out of Hinata’s eyes, mindlessly. He didn’t even realize he’d done it until Bokuto —bless him— scoffed under his breath as if to relieve the atmosphere around them. Mortified, Atsumu retracted his hand, only to find Shouyou looking up at him, through his eyelashes, as if he knew something he didn’t.

The missing piece. The finally filled emptiness. Light, warmth, and laughter— it’s not like they didn’t have them before. But Hinata seemed to be a magnet to it. Wherever he went, there they followed. They seemed to come from inside of him, to ooze from his pores. The team was at the peak of their game, always trying to keep up with the hyperactive crow that seemed to invade the jackals’ pack, making it his, filling every space available until they couldn’t picture their dynamic without him.

“I think I’ve had _a little bit too much_ to drink,” Hinata said, frowning at his empty glass of beer. He ran a pale finger over the edge of the glass, the slightly pink skin fingertip getting caught on the movement and the friction of the material underneath. “Jeez, I’m dizzy.”

He giggled, causing the entire team to just sigh in exasperation. Hadn’t he learned a single thing about alcohol? Atsumu knew Shouyou had drunk enough caipirinhas in his life to get to deeply know his limit with booze, but Hinata knew no limits _whatsoever_. Shouyou just kinda _existed_ , no questions asked, always moving forward, always pushing a bit too much. It was gonna be the end of him one day, Atsumu —and every single person who knew him— knew it.

“Well then” Atsumu sighed, downing his own beer with one gulp. The alcohol warmed his way down his throat, seemed to expand inside of his stomach. Letting the glass on the table they were sharing and smacking a few bills on the surface, he turned around to collect his jacket and slide off the stool. “I’ll be getting this fella home. Y’all enjoy the evening.”

“Who?” Hinata blinked in confusion, looking at him like it was the first time he’d seen Atsumu. His eyes were on the others’ then, examining their amused expressions with growing curiosity. “Who’re you taking home, Atsumu-san?”

“You, shrimp” Atsumu sighed, trying not to smile— and failing miserably. Bokuto scoffed and pretended he didn’t see that by taking a swig of his drink. “Get up. If we let you drink any more, you’ll be a sandbag.”

“That’s not very kind” Shouyou whined. He still complied, though; sliding off his stool, taking his jacket with slightly trembling fingers and folding it over his right arm. Calculated, slow enough for Atsumu to know he wasn’t really that drunk. “Anyway, see you all tomorrow.”

He wanted something. Something along the lines of Atsumu taking responsibility of his alcohol-induced haze. The thought alone sent a shiver down his spine; had Shouyou always been this straightforward? In his own way, of course, because being straightforward was basically telling him «you, me, outside». Shouyou was not that kind of person, though. Or not anymore, that is; he probably was during his teenage years. But Hinata was used to communicate differently than the rest. His field of expertise wasn’t the language: he spoke through actions. Be it in the court, where he could just fly, attract everyone’s attention like the sun kept the planets in orbit, or out of the court, where his eyes and laughter would give him away.

They said their goodbyes, Hinata promising to text once he got home. «I’m gonna be okay, Omi-san» he’d whined after the third nasty look Sakusa had sent him. The subtle way Kiyoomi had of worrying about his teammates was endearing, and Atsumu made his best to not annoy him for it. It was hard, though: Atsumu _was_ annoying when he got attached to someone. And yeah, sue him, he was attached to his teammates.

Hinata walked in front of him, too straight and too easily to be tipsy. He navigated between the tables and the patrons the same way he did on the court; swiftly and filled with confidence. Atsumu smirked to himself. He was a _terrible_ liar.

The cold of a winter night in Tokyo felt like a bite against the exposed skin of his face. He shivered, rubbing his palms against his arms to create warmth through friction. Hinata, on the other hand, just looked at the sky over their heads; there was a small crease between his eyebrows, cheeks flushed and pursed lips.

“Everythin’ alright?” Atsumu asked, following the direction of Hinata’s gaze. The sky was cloudy and he could barely see the stars due to the light pollution. “Shouyou?”

“Ah” the other sighed. His gaze parted from the sky above them, falling on Atsumu with all the weight he always felt whenever Hinata looked at him. “I was just thinking.”

“About?”

“I kind of miss Miyagi’s stars, you know?” he said, smiling softly. There, _right there_ , Atsumu found the meeting point between the fifteen-year-old Hinata he’d met during the tournament and the twenty-two-year-old guy he’d gotten to know as his teammate, as _his_ spiker. It was different and endearing, and the way his eyes shone softly due to the lights of the showcases and streetlights around them made Atsumu feel all kinds of nervous. The line between these two persons he thought he knew was so blurred, so out of sight, he couldn’t even begin to understand where it came from in the first place. “I was used to just— look up and find my way through them. I missed them in Brazil, too. You don’t see the same stars there, did you know that? Something about different hemispheres…”

He trailed off then, starting to walk. Atsumu squinted at him, glued to his spot, eyes fixed on Shouyou’s back. Through the noise of a way-too-alive city to his taste, he heard Hinata humming a song. He wasn’t drunk— he wasn’t even tipsy. He wanted to be all alone with Atsumu. He wanted it bad enough that he’d faked the haze of the alcohol.

And now he wasn’t even looking at him?

Outrageous.

Atsumu sighed. He loved Shouyou so much, but the guy was a real pain in the ass. There were some times Atsumu wanted to throw a ball to his face. He was annoyingly flirty, annoyingly cute, and too damn cryptic for Atsumu to really get the hang of him. Yeah, he was an open book, but there was something else to him that made him absolutely indecipherable. He wasn’t used to this— wasn’t used to read so much into someone out of the court. It was annoying as hell. And whenever Shouyou flirted, in that soft, secretive way of his, Atsumu found his heart racing, on the edge of actually falling out of his chest and run away. He was sure Hinata flirted with him, something inside his chest told him so, but he could never be sure and that, _that_ , was what killed him. Was he really flirting or was he just too friendly for his own good? Did he do it on purpose?

“ _Desejo a você o que há de melhor,_ ” he heard, blinking into the cold air. Shouyou had stopped a few meters away from him, fixing his gaze on Atsumu through the corner of his eyes. He was singing, Atsumu realized. In Portuguese. Under his breath, loud enough for the setter to hear, discreetly enough for his words to only fall on Atsumu’s ears. “ _A minha companhia, pra não se sentir só._ ”

A smile. Soft and warm in the chilly air of a wintery night in Tokyo, so subtle Atsumu almost thought he’d imagined it. The streetlamp over his head cast a faint golden light over him, a halo of luminescence that made him look as if the sun had descended in front of him, made out of flesh and bone and everything Atsumu could’ve ever wished for.

“You comin’ or nah?” Hinata called, rubbing his hands together. He blew some air on the tip of his fingers, trying to warm them up. “It’s cold.”

Atsumu _knew_ that. The chilly air seeped through his clothes, made his bones ache for something he couldn’t quite understand. Rather, he did understand what he ached for, but he wasn’t about to sit on it _at that exact moment_. It was too much. Too overwhelming and way too soon. He had too many drinks to allow himself to think about it.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m comin’” he said, faking an exasperated sigh.

Shouyou laughed, and Atsumu froze mid-step. Something in his chest snapped, and then he was crossing the distance between them in long strides. Hinata blinked at him, surprised, without moving a single centimeter from his position, fixing his gaze on Atsumu’s. He still had to crane his neck to get a full view of the setter’s face.

Atsumu’s hands held Shouyou’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over the angle of the shorter’s cheekbones as if he’d wanted to erase the faint freckles on the skin. Hinata’s breath was hot against his mouth, a small and almost nonexistent sigh warming his face.

His lips were even hotter against Atsumu’s, sweet, plump and soft. So soft he almost melted under the touch, a puddle of exposed nerves and trembling hands. The sound Hinata made in the back of his throat had him weak on the knees, almost too invested in the contact to even think about holding his own body weight upright. It was pure _appreciation_ , kind of frustrated, kind of relieved and all sorts of promising, as if he’d just offered him every single thing in the world through the most subtle moan.

When he broke the kiss and opened his eyes, he found Shouyou’s staring directly at his. It looked like a storm was raging behind those irises as if the sleeping volcano had finally awakened. Fierce, ready to consume everything on his path, even if that included Atsumu. The look in those eyes threatened to burn every single thing in existence, turn it into ashes.

Atsumu felt a shiver run down his spine.

“Took you long enough” Hinata whined, frowning.

Out of all the things he’d expected from life, falling _this hard_ for Hinata Shouyou was definitely not the first thing on his list. To kiss him under the soft, golden glow of a streetlamp wasn’t either. Finding the line that divided the guy he’d met during his second year in high school and the guy he had as a teammate wasn’t even _close_ to being a priority. Hold him like this, so close, so warm and so intimate, wasn’t something he’d imagine he’d put on said list when he first met him.

Turns out, the things he’d expected from life had a weird way of showing their own interests.

“What does it mean?” he asked, closing his eyes, pressing his lips to a scalding hot temple. The soft, thin hair on the skin tickled the corner of his mouth.

“What?” Shouyou sighed, his hands pressing against Atsumu’s back.

“The song”.

“Ah” Hinata laughed, soft and intimate. “ _I wish for you what you consider best. My company, so you don’t feel lonely_.”

The taller one laughed, exasperated. How could Shouyou be this much of a pain in the ass and, at the same time, the one thing Atsumu couldn’t live without?

“You’re one sappy bastard, didja know that?”

He giggled, nose running up and down Atsumu’s jaw. The touch sent electricity through his veins, made him think about how Shouyou looked like he was the fuel that set his team in motion back then in high school.

“I might’ve missed my language” he sighed, pressing his lips to Atsumu’s ear. He shivered, the hot damp air leaving Shouyou’s mouth setting his skin on fire, “but there’re some advantages to being bilingual.”

“Like…?”

“Getting the guy you like to finally snap and kiss you, for example.”

Atsumu just laughed, hugging him tightly, diving his nose into the crook of his neck. He smelled like sunlight, felt like sunlight, _pressed against him_ like sunlight. Warm and overwhelming and oh so, _so_ necessary.

“Let’s go home, ‘Tsumu” Hinata mumbled against his chest.

“Yeah, yeah. Comin’”.

When he intertwined his fingers with Hinata’s and they started walking, Atsumu smiled to himself. The guy to his side kept singing under his breath, Portuguese rolling off his tongue with such ease it felt as if he’d known it his entire life. Lyrics he couldn’t understand but felt so endearing he had the burning need to learn, to share this with him. To share everything with him because god knew how much he’d been waiting for this. Something so small yet holding such a deep meaning.

“ _Você é a razão da minha felicidade, não va dizer que eu não sou sua cara-metade. Meu amor, por favor, vem viver comigo. No seu colo é o meu abrigo.”_

Yeah. He was a goner.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this! I was really excited while writing this— it's been a while since I've fallen for a ship _this hard..._ I swear I've been updating the AtsuHina tag twice a day so I can read every single work published in English and Spanish the moment they appear on the page. There's no hope for me. I will go down with this ship. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. I hope to see you all soon with a new one-shot, _hopefully_ after I'm done reading the manga. 
> 
> See ya! 
> 
> Also come scream at me in Twitter: [@Xhiiluh](https://twitter.com/Xhiiluh)


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